Apologies
by smc-27
Summary: She missed him. Every single day in three years they were apart, she missed him. If it was possible, she missed him more now that she had to see him nearly every day. He was her comfort. And her comfort was gone. LP Oneshot.


**A/N:** Hey! I am back from vacation, barely rested, and still lacking any great ideas. I guess winter weather in rural Canada isn't as inspiring as I'd hoped. Anyway, here's a little (well, not so little) oneshot I wrote while sitting in airports, waiting for my delayed flights to get called.

The title is _Apologies_ by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. The story pretty much came out of my love of that song...

**----**

She had come back for him. Asked time and time again, she'd denied it, but it was true. She knew it, Brooke knew it, and she assumed, since that first night they saw each other through darkness and smoldering late summer heat, that he knew it too.

But he had someone. He was with someone.

And that someone was beautiful and intelligent and loyal. She lived with him. She shared her life with him. She did all the things Peyton couldn't. All the things Peyton didn't. The first time she saw him holding the hand of the woman he now called his, she felt as though a piece of her heart had been torn from her chest. Just another piece of her that was pulled from her because of him. She wondered what else she had to give; what was left. Ever since he'd left her for the last time, she'd been slowly breaking down, bit by bit, and she was starting to wonder if that was her punishment. Maybe that was the torture she deserved for breaking his heart, though he turned around and did the same thing to her.

And now she had to see him with the woman he loved. The woman who wasn't her. The woman who she was constantly palpably jealous of. She really wanted to hate her. And she did, to a degree, but not for any petty reason - not for the clothes she wore or the way she spoke. She hated her because she wanted so badly to have him for herself.

She missed him. Every single day for the entire three years they were apart, she missed him. If it was possible, she missed him more now that she had to see him nearly every day. It was hard seeing him and knowing it would never be the way it was before. She would never joke with him and wake up with him and feel that comfort that she used to feel with him. He was her comfort.

And her comfort was gone.

And it was changing her.

_----_

She had rarely seen him without _her_, or his brother or his best friend. They had only been alone a handful of times, and she couldn't decide whether or not that was exactly what she wanted, or exactly what she didn't want. When she'd see him, it would ignite a hope in her. _Maybe this is the time he'll tell me he loves me. Maybe this is the time he'll tell me he's done with her._ But that never happened.

He'd still managed to insert himself in her life, more than he already had. He'd given her an office and the confidence she needed. She hated that. She knew that every time he did something for her or looked at her or smiled at her, he was just helping her to hang on. She almost wished he'd say he hated her. She wished he'd just tell her to get over it. But he didn't say those words, and it just helped her to live in denial of the situation. He loved someone else. They were over.

But somehow, not to her.

When he stormed into her office, defending his girlfriend, it was the last thing she needed. The very last thing. She couldn't think of anything she wanted less in that moment than him standing in front of her, brooding and sexy, asking her if he could help her.

She resisted the urge to laugh in his face. _Help her_. Now he wanted to help her. Forget three years ago when she was breaking. He wanted to help her _now_?

He didn't want to help _her_. He wanted to help his _new_ girlfriend. Peyton's words had upset the girl, so he was protecting her. It made her want to cry that he wasn't protecting her. Even when he came to her, it wasn't about her. Nothing he did was ever about her any more.

He told her she was different. He said her eyes were different. She wanted to slap him. Any life in her eyes had left when she'd woken up alone the morning after everything went bad. He had some nerve to even talk to her about her eyes. He'd once told her they were his favourite part of her. He'd told her they'd stay with him forever. He told her there wouldn't be a day when thinking about those eyes wouldn't calm him.

And now they were different? He was different. Then it hit her: she didn't know a Lucas who didn't love her. She'd never truly seen a Lucas who didn't love her. Until now.

She willed herself not to cry. She hadn't done it yet, not publicly. She had reserved her tears for the solace of her bedroom in the middle of the night when she knew no one could hear her or see her. She'd told herself a long time ago that she was done crying over him, but that all changed when she came home to find him in love with someone else.

And then, standing in the middle of her office, he said the words she'd willed him to say since she arrived.

"I wish you'd stayed away."

But as soon as he'd said them, it infuriated her that he thought that town belonged only to him. It had been where she grew up, too. But now she wasn't welcome? He was being selfish. But she could see his point. She had come back unannounced and disrupted his perfect little life. His live-in girlfriend and his routine and his friends. She'd wedged herself into his life without warning.

"I don't want us to be like this, Peyton," he said somberly. His hands were resting on his hips like he'd always done when he was fighting some intense inner battle.

And that reminded her of just how well she knew him. She _knew_ him. She wondered if Lindsey picked up on these little nuances; these little things about him. She wondered if anyone would ever know him like she did.

"What do you want us to be like?" she asked from her place. Dammit, why did he insist on making this so hard. "You don't want us to be anything."

"That's not true," he insisted.

"You just told me you don't want me here," she pointed out, looking down at her papers. It was hard to say the words.

He let out a sigh of frustration as his head lolled back. "It's not that."

"Well then what is it?" she lashed out. God, he could be infuriating. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? Why did everything have to be a big, poetic proclamation? She, for once, wished that he'd just cut through all the garbage and just say how he felt.

"It's too hard!" he shouted. "It's too hard to see you again. I have a million questions that I have no business asking you, and just as many things I want to say to you, but I just can't, Peyton. I just...can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" she muttered. She looked up to him and she knew he'd heard.

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake," he said softly before turning towards the door.

"Lucas," she called out, making him turn around again. "You think this has been easy for me?"

"I..."

"I didn't know you were with someone. I didn't know you had this life with her. I don't even know who you are any more," she said, failing in her attempt to hold back her emotions. "I just wish..."

"What?" he asked, walking towards her where she was now standing, leaning back on her desk. "What do you wish?"

"I wish I'd said yes," she admitted softly. She'd looked straight into his eyes as she said the words, and she thought that she saw something familiar in them, though she couldn't be sure. It looked a little bit like love.

He was standing so close to him that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. That scent and and presence and aura that had always been so intoxicating to her.

And then he kissed her. He kissed her the way he used to when it meant something. His hands were buried knuckle deep in her hair and the kiss left them both breathless. He muttered an apology before he moved away from her and left her office quickly.

And she felt alive. His lips on her made her feel something she hadn't felt in three years. Hope. Love. Life. Just...feeling. She had missed that. She needed that. She was tired of being numb and questioning herself and her life and her dreams and everything she thought she wanted.

He had kissed her.

He was engaged a week later.

_----_

She couldn't stay in that town. She couldn't be there with him and have to see him with his wife. His wife. Was she a fool? Was she crazy to think that he felt all the same things she felt when he kissed her? And he'd had the nerve to send her an invitation to his wedding. Had he always been that clueless? If she thought about it, yes. He'd wanted them to be friends while he was with Brooke. Friends. Lucas and Peyton were never just friends. She couldn't sit there and watch as he pledged his love to someone else. She wouldn't. She knew that if the tables were turned, there was no way he could watch her do it either. She didn't know why he'd even asked her to. Maybe he didn't know her that well after all.

So she left.

She didn't say goodbye to him. She didn't tell him she was leaving. She just left.

She chose Nashville. It was the perfect place for her, she decided. Her label would thrive in such a music-driven atmosphere. It was close enough to Tree Hill that she could make occasional visits to her best friends, but far enough away to be a complete change of pace.

She wondered if she was just too much for any man she'd gotten to know. Lucas had walked away when her insecurities got the best of her. He'd done it twice. She had lost her boyfriend of a year and a half in L.A. because she couldn't let go of her ex-boyfriend. She could have loved Julian forever. It wouldn't have been the same kind of love she had for Lucas, but she could have done it. But he'd left, too.

She just wanted someone who would take her for what she was. No twisted history. No epic, tragic love story. No battered copies of books indicating her underlying feelings for someone else. Nothing holding her back from giving herself to someone completely. She and Lucas were over so she resolved herself to the fact that he simply wasn't the one for her. He couldn't be. If he was, they'd be together. She let him go the moment she drove out of Tree Hill.

She met Chris at a small bar on the outskirts of town where she had been told she could find great live music. She could tell right away that he was a musician by the way he bobbed his head and closed his eyes and smiled at the parts of the songs that moved him. He was tall and muscular - she'd later learn it came from years of working on his parents' ranch - and she was attracted immediately. She took the seat next to him and he smiled a genuine smile; one like she hadn't seen in ages.

They bonded immediately over music and heartache. He put it into his songs, and played them for her while they sat on her living room floor sipping whiskey in the middle of the night. He was a southern boy, through and through. He called her _darlin_' and drove a pick up truck and listened to Merle Haggard and George Jones. He had a gentle heart that he let her into completely. The first time he kissed her, a warmth washed over her. He was what she needed.

He told her he loved her on a drive back from Memphis one night. His eyes were on the road and it was so dark that she could only see the contours of his face. She smiled and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. She meant those three words. She meant them like she'd only meant them to one other person. That was the first time she'd really let herself think about it - _him_ - since she had started dating Chris. She pretended that the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach wasn't guilt over loving someone other than Lucas.

_----_

No one had told her that Lucas and Lindsey hadn't gotten married. No one had told her that Lindsey had convinced everyone but Lucas that he was still in love with the blonde girl who'd stolen his heart the first moment he saw her. No one told her that he hadn't been the same since that blonde girl left town.

No one told her that three months after his almost-wedding, he had finally admitted that it was Peyton he'd loved all along.

It wasn't that Lindsey had been a mistake. She hadn't. She'd been one of the great loves of his life. She just wasn't _the_ great love of his life. She'd given him more than he could have even asked. She had just realized that he would never let her in completely, and while he may have been able to live with that, she certainly couldn't. She had broken both of them when she walked away from him, but she didn't worry about him. He would get Peyton back, and she told him as much. He would find his other half again and win her back.

No one would tell him where she'd gone. He hated them for that, though he could understand. They were trying to protect her. But he wasn't going to hurt her. He was going to make up for hurting her. He was going to love her. Finally, after a long and tearful talk with his best friend, she gave him the information he so desperately wanted. She'd only seen him that way once before, right after the botched proposal. She knew the two were meant to be, just like everyone else.

She didn't know that Peyton had moved on. She didn't know that the girl was in love with the guy she'd only told her two best friends about in passing. They hadn't told her about the wedding that wasn't. They'd all tried, but she would close herself up or simply hang up the phone at the mere mention of his name. She wanted to be happy, and she repeated to them over and over that any happiness she found in her life wouldn't include Lucas Scott.

But he couldn't be without her now. Now that he knew that he loved her still, he couldn't let her slip away. He tried to deny that he'd pushed her away, but he knew it was the truth. Every day he'd wake knowing he made a mess of everything. Every day he'd wake and hope that she would just give him this one last chance. It was all he'd need. He wouldn't hurt her again. He'd spend his life making up for ever causing her any pain. He needed her.

He finally worked up the nerve to go see her, three weeks after finding out where she was. What if she told him she couldn't forgive him? What if she wouldn't speak to him at all? What if she laughed in his face? He certainly wouldn't blame her if she did any of those things, or all three for that matter.

But he wanted her to run to him. He wanted her to wrap her arms around him and let her fingers trail down his neck like they used to when she kissed him. He wanted her to fiddle with the button of his shirt that sat just below his sternum like she would when she needed him. She hadn't ever realized that she did it, but when she'd tug that little button, that was the green light he needed. It was a subconscious mannerism that told him she was craving his skin against hers.

He missed every little thing about her. All the things that he'd spent four years trying to forget, he missed. He ached for them. Even the things that had always driven him insane, he missed. He would take it all. The good. The bad. _Her_.

He found himself in front of the little house in the little Nashville suburb, with the American flag hanging from a pole attached to the porch and blowing in the wind, just like every other house on the street. He felt as though his heart might stop at any moment. It was a Saturday afternoon, and he hadn't called. He didn't know if she was home. He'd wait if she wasn't.

A deep breath to calm his nerves, and he was making his way up the walk and to her door.

He had just raised his hand to rap his knuckles against the wood, when a muffled sound from inside halted his actions.

"No! Stop it!" he heard her cry. "Don't!"

He just about knocked down the door. His heart raced and he felt that surge of adrenaline he'd always gotten when he was protecting her. He'd never quite had that feeling for anything else or anyone else. Only Peyton. It hadn't ever mattered what the status of their relationship was, and it didn't matter now. If she was in trouble, he was sure as hell going to save her.

But then he heard something else. A giggle. A laugh.

A kiss.

Then he felt it. He felt what she must have felt when he told her he was seeing someone else. It was an all-consuming pain that knocked the wind out of him. He retreated to the steps of her front porch and collapsed onto them, just needing to sit. He didn't trust his legs to hold him up any longer. He dropped his head. Everything he wanted had just been torn away from him. She was over him. They were over.

He wasn't sure how long he sat on her steps. An hour, at least. He wasn't even pulled from his daze when the door opened behind him. She saw only the back of his head, but of course she knew who it was that was parked on her porch. She looked to Chris, who gave her a reassuring nod and went back into the house. She wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew. She took a breath and sat next to Lucas. He finally looked at her with broken eyes, and she wondered why he was there. What was he doing? Where was Lindsey?

"You're with someone," he stated, looking back to his feet. He couldn't look at her when she confirmed it. He just couldn't.

"Lucas..." she said quietly, shaking her head.

"I didn't marry Lindsey," he interrupted. He needed her to know, finally. He needed it all to be out in the open. He didn't know if it would make a difference, but he wanted her to know.

"Oh," she muttered. The irony of using that syllable now was not lost on her. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he said simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She let out a quick breath in disbelief, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Was he really saying these words? She just sat, shaking her head at his confession.

"Are you kidding me with this?" she asked as calmly as she could.

"I'm not...I mean, I'm...I'm not asking for anything," he managed to get out. He was beginning to think he was the biggest fool in the world. He had just assumed she'd be single and waiting for him. Or at least still thinking of him. Clearly he had been wrong.

"We haven't seen each other in six months. We haven't even _talked_ to each other in six months. And now you're sitting on my porch telling me that you love me. If you're not asking for anything, then why are you here?" she asked harshly. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

"I don't know," he sighed. It was the truth. He didn't.

"Yes you do," she insisted quietly. "You want the same things I wanted when I went back to Tree Hill."

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. Yes, he was a fool. And she was making damn sure he knew it.

"No, you're not," she laughed. She knew that feeling well. She had been in his shoes 8 short months before. Longing and hopeful and in love, only to have it all crash down around her.

"Are you just going to counter every single thing I say?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'll stop if you stop lying to yourself," she pointed out.

"I love you," he repeated, hoping to crack the stony exterior she'd put up.

She wanted to counter that, too, but she just couldn't. Maybe he did. Maybe he loved her and he'd finally realized what she had thought 8 months ago. But, true to what their relationship had always been like, the timing couldn't have been worse.

"What do you want me to say, Lucas?" she asked in a whisper.

"Honestly? I want you to say that you love me too, and that you want me to go into the long speech I prepared telling you all the reasons I don't deserve you. Maybe I never did deserve you. I want you to tell me that it's not OK that I screwed everything up so badly, but that maybe you can forgive me and we can start over."

"I don't think I can do that," she said sadly.

It was killing her to hold it together. She felt that as soon as she was behind closed doors, or as soon as he drove away, she'd burst into tears. He'd just said all the things she had wanted to hear for so long. But he was too late. Where were these words 8 months ago? Or 4 years ago?

He took a deep breath and hung his head again. He knew it was all wrong. He'd, once again, come and ambushed her with a grandiose speech that he should have known was too much. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was just what they did. One would say something that would make the other run scared, then after a bit, they'd each come to their senses and admit that they felt the same. But then he remembered the man standing inside her house, and he lost a little bit more hope.

"Don't say that," he insisted.

How could she not see it any more? It was always the two of them, and whoever was on the other side of the door behind them was just a stand in. He was her Lindsey. Or so Lucas hoped.

The words were familiar to her. She'd said them herself. But this was different. She wondered how many times he'd have to break her heart before he realized that they weren't meant to be. They'd had so many chances already, and they'd blown each and every one.

"I can't believe you just showed up here and said all these things," she said, somewhat angrily. She couldn't be nice any more, though it wasn't easy to harden her demeanor when he looked so broken.

"You did the same thing," he pointed out defensively.

"I didn't kiss you then _propose_ to someone else. I hadn't just torn out your heart and expected everything to be forgiven," she argued.

"You don't think you broke my heart when you said you didn't want to marry me?" he said in a raised voice.

"I never said I didn't want to marry you!" she shouted. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. He'd always been hard headed, but she was starting to wonder how many times she'd have to say those words.

Then he remembered, as he had so many times, that night in L.A. _'I do want to marry you someday.' _Someday_. _But why was she getting so upset about it if she was so over him? The hope he'd lost was back. She wouldn't be trying so hard to get that point across if she didn't still care about him.

"So now you want to marry this guy?" he asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the house and the man in it.

"I didn't say that," she said quietly.

She hadn't even thought of marrying Chris. It had never crossed her mind. Not once. She was just with him, and she loved him, but she hadn't considered marriage. When she was with Julian, it was the same thing. The only person she'd ever truly wanted to marry was sitting in front of her right now. But he was too late.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked somberly. If she wouldn't come back to him, he wasn't really sure where to go from there.

And those words were familiar to her, too. She'd asked the same ones after he'd gotten engaged. But he wasn't hers to worry about any more, and he'd have to figure that all out on his own, just as she had.

"I don't know," she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. "That's not really for me to say."

"So you just don't care?" he asked, looking into her eyes. They were cold and emotionless, and it scared him to see them like that; he never had before.

"Did you care about me? You knew I left and didn't even try to talk to me until now, when it was convenient for _you_. When _you_ wanted something," she argued, pointing at him for effect. "That's the thing, Luke. Everything always has to be on your terms, right?"

"That's not true!" he said. But then he thought about it, and it kind of was true. Every time they'd gotten together, it had been when he was ready. And every time they were kept apart, it was because of something he'd done. Until now.

"Whatever," she muttered, shaking her head. She was done with this conversation, whether he was or not. "I have to go."

"Well, can't we be friends or something?" he asked desperately. "I mean, when you come back to visit?"

"I don't know, Lucas. I guess we'll have to see," she said with a shrug.

She felt for him. She'd been in his shoes, and she didn't wish that on anyone, and certainly not him. She'd always care for him, and she was sure he knew that, even if she didn't say the words. She just couldn't get sucked into it all again - them. It never worked out and one of them would end up heartbroken and angry, or sad and depressed. She just knew that there was nothing left for them as a couple. They were done, and the sooner he realized that, the better.

He didn't say another word. He just pulled her into a hug, kissed her forehead, and walked back to his car. He didn't regret the contact, he just regretted that his own mistakes had made it so he couldn't repeat that action every day.

_----_

He could have driven back to Tree Hill after he left her house, but he couldn't face the questions from his friends, wondering how things went. So instead, he found a hotel room, walked to the nearest bar, and drank until last call. He'd started out with a shot for every time they'd broken up, and one for every time they'd tried to get together and it didn't work. He watched a young couple, obviously in love, sip whiskey and laugh with each other. He wondered how he'd gotten so far from that. Willie Nelson came on the jukebox, and Lucas closed his eyes as he listened to _Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. _No other song spoke to him like that song had in that moment. It didn't exactly fit them and their situation, and maybe it was the alcohol, but it was the perfect sentiment.

She was gone. He had lost her. And he had no one to blame but himself.

He'd let his pride get in the way of his love for the one person who'd always accepted it so completely. What they had shared was so private and personal, despite the fact that he'd written about it and shown it to the world. He wondered if she'd lost sight of that, though he knew that he was guilty of the same. Maybe he'd been a fool to think that she'd still somehow want him after all he'd put her through. But it was over, he felt, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to move on from that. He didn't know that he could get over her.

So he didn't try. He just drank. When he returned to Tree Hill, he all but locked himself in his house with the bottle. He wrote about love lost and heartache. They were pages he'd probably never show anyone, but they may have been the best he ever wrote. They were real and true and it hurt him to know that he had the experience and he was living out the story.

He hadn't told anyone the details of what happened when he'd gone to see Peyton, but he didn't have to. They all knew that it had been a disaster, and he was alone again. Three weeks after his return, he'd barely left his home, and Haley was beyond concerned. She wanted her best friend back, and if that meant calling Peyton and begging for the reason for Lucas' breakdown, she was going to do it.

"Hello?" Peyton said. She was juggling her phone, a coffee, and her daily album sales reports as she answered.

"Hey. It's Haley," she said somberly. She almost lost her nerve, but then she pictured Lucas passed out on his bed.

"Haley. What's up?" It surprised her to get the call at that time of day. Usually, if and when Haley would call, it was after dinner. They'd have a quick chat about Nathan and Jamie and the label, then they'd hang up.

"It's Lucas."

Those two words were enough to make Peyton's attention shift from several things to only one. She feared the worst immediately, and her heart wrenched in her chest for reasons she didn't want to admit to herself or anyone else. Since that day on her porch step, her mind had drifted to him more often than she wanted it to.

"He's in a really bad place," Haley elaborated.

"What do you mean?" Peyton asked. She didn't want to sound relieved, but she was. She had immediately thought he was hurt. Well, injured physically rather than simply heartbroken.

"He's hurting and dark. He hasn't been to practice in two weeks, and he's drinking a lot. Too much," Haley explained quietly. She couldn't hide the concern or emotion. She loved him like a brother, and he was all but killing himself.

"I don't really know what you want me to do, Haley," Peyton said. She wasn't mean or spiteful, but she wondered why, all of a sudden, she was getting a call concerning him.

"He's in love with you, Peyton."

"You know, I seem to recall you telling me I should get over it," Peyton said, trying in vain to disguise her anger. "I was in the same place as him, and you told me to let it go."

"Because he was with someone else!" Haley defended.

"So am I!" Peyton shouted. She realized that she hadn't really told Haley how serious her relationship was. "Look, I understand that you're concerned for him, but it's not my place anymore."

"You're in his heart, Peyton," Haley pointed out. "That's your place. And whether you want to admit it or not, you know you're the only one who can get through to him. He needs you."

"Haley..."

"He needs you," Haley repeated. "And he was there for you when you needed him."

Haley hung up the phone before Peyton could argue, and she was thankful, because she couldn't think of anything to say in rebuttal. Sure, there were times when he wasn't there for her, but they had been as much her fault as his.

She thought about it for a moment, sitting at her desk, before she got really angry. He had too much potential and too much heart to throw it all away so easily. If he wasn't going to be the best version of himself, that was a slap in the face to her. She'd always wanted him to be amazing, even when she was pretending to hate him. She wasn't going to let him get away with being mediocre.

She called Chris, who had sighed deeply and asked why she cared so much about her ex-boyfriend. She had no answer, and that upset him even more. They talked - well, argued - for a while and he told her to do whatever she wanted. She hung up not knowing if their relationship would survive this, but there was still only one thing on her mind.

Lucas.

_----_

She got to Tree Hill at midnight. She'd packed some things into a small bag, thrown it into the back seat of her car, and driven most of the afternoon and all evening to get to him. Every town she passed took her one town closer to him, and she grew angrier and angrier with him for basically throwing it all away. She stopped only for coffee and something to eat. She just needed to get to him.

She drove straight to his house, not telling anyone she was going to be there. She got out of her car, slammed the door, and marched right up the steps to his bedroom door. She didn't knock. She didn't open the door slowly and peer in. She opened the door with a force that surprised even her, and saw him sitting on his bed with his legs outstretched, a glass of amber liquid in his hand and resting on his thigh. It was quiet, and relatively dark, with only a few candles lit in the room.

He was shocked to see her. He didn't know why she was there or what she wanted or why her hair looked windblown and disheveled, but he didn't care. He cared about why she had fury in her eyes and a clenched fist at her side.

"Are you stupid?" she asked bluntly, slamming the door behind her.

"Uh..."

"Seriously?" she spat as he shifted uncomfortably in the wake of her yelling. "You're acting like an idiot!"

"Thanks for the sympathy," he said sarcastically, raising his glass to his lips.

"Sympathy? You want sympathy from _me_?" she asked, laughing ever so slightly at the irony. "You're forgetting that I've _been_ where you are right now. So don't try to tell me that this is the only way to deal with it!"

"You're right, Peyt," he said, smiling sardonically as he stood up and set his glass on the table next to the bed. "I could just move away, couldn't I?"

"Screw you," she said with conviction. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Fight!" he shouted, startling her with his tone. "If you were so fucking sure that we were meant to be, why didn't you try harder to prove it."

"You're a jackass, you know that?" she asked with a smug grin. "You told me repeatedly that we were over."

"Well, I guess I was wrong," he admitted, walking around the bed and closing the space between them. He was too close for comfort, but not for the reasons that used to affect her. He smelled of scotch and she could see the pain on his face more clearly.

"Too bad. You don't get to pick and choose when you want _us_, Lucas," she said desperately, gesturing between the two of them with her hand.

"But you do?" he said, his anger rising once again.

Suddenly, his proximity was intimidating and uncomfortable. He'd never been angry with her like this. Sure, they'd had their arguments, but she'd never seen him so undone. It was unsettling, and she wasn't sure what to do next.

"You loved her, so I stepped out of the way," she said softly, hoping that her own tone would somehow change his.

"You shouldn't have," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

And she was lost. Any point she had come to make was gone and forgotten. Any anger or hurt or betrayal she'd wanted to express to him was gone from her mind when his blue eyes met hers.

"You're always in my way," he said, stepping closer to her. He rested his forehead against hers and let out a deep sigh. It may have been relief, but she couldn't be sure. "You're always in my way and there's nothing I can do about it."

She didn't know if he was going to kiss her, or if she even wanted him to, but they just stood there in his bedroom, foreheads touching and breathing in each other's air. He closed his eyes and she didn't know if he was just relishing the closeness, or if the scotch had gotten to him. He raised one hand to touch her cheek, and moved the other to her hip. His thumb caressed her face softly, and before she knew it, he had pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss that still sent a shiver through her entire body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes again to look at her. "I'm so sorry."

She could still taste the alcohol from his lips on her own, and somehow, nothing had ever tasted so sweet. She knew his apology was for too many things, and he probably just didn't know where to start. That, or he wasn't in any frame of mind to form a more coherent statement.

But she realized that this argument wasn't an ending or a goodbye or an angry shouting match between two people who couldn't stand each other. She wouldn't be there in his bedroom if she had even thought that's what she would have walked into. That apology was what she'd come for, even if she hadn't known that when she got into her car that afternoon.

She didn't want to say goodbye to him. She never had, he'd just always made her do it. Junior year, the proposal, the book signing, his engagement. She had wanted him every time, and he'd been the one to wordlessly ask her to move on. And the thing was, even when she thought she had moved on, she hadn't, and she usually didn't realize that until someone else pointed it out. He was right; they just couldn't get out of each others' way.

"What do you want me to say, Lucas?" she asked, echoing her words from weeks earlier on the front porch of her house.

"Say you love me," he said simply. It was a whispered plea, and he knew she'd hear it as one.

Sure, he could have gone into a speech, begging for forgiveness, telling her all the reasons he needed her, reminding her that they were each others' hearts. But he didn't need to, and he knew that just as well as she did. He knew they'd never get over each other, and it was time to stop the game of cat and mouse they'd been playing for nearly 7 years. They needed each other, and he knew they just had to admit that and get on with things.

It didn't matter that she technically had a boyfriend - though she wasn't sure where they stood. It didn't matter that she owned a house in a city 10 hours away. It didn't matter that her business and her artists were all in a different state. None of those things were Lucas. None of those things gave her butterflies in her stomach from a simple peck to the lips. None of those things were in front of her right now, telling her what she'd wanted to hear for years.

"OK," she whispered.

"OK?" he asked, smirking slightly as he pulled away from her a little more. If it was possible, she missed him when his body moved so it wasn't touching hers.

"Yeah," she said with a grin, knowing that her not saying the words would make him crazy.

"Say it," he insisted, gripping her hips tighter.

She wasn't sure where this side of him was coming from - if it was the alcohol or the heartache - but she liked it. A lot. Her temperature, she was sure, was through the roof, and it was a struggle to keep her breathing even. She let out a breathy chuckle at the request, and it was just about the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

"I lov..."

His lips on her own cut off her words, and he immediately let his tongue slip into her mouth. She didn't protest, not even a little bit. His hands moved around to her back and he pulled her even closer, needing to feel her against him as completely as he could without shedding both their clothes (though yes, he wanted that, too). When they pulled away, she took a moment to catch her breath.

"You didn't even let me say it," she laughed.

"Change your mind?" he teased, reaching behind her to lock the door, without moving too far away from her.

"Never," she whispered before pressing her lips to his once again. She was sure she'd never get sick of that.

It was a reunion in the purest sense of the word. They spent the rest of the evening reconnecting and kissing and laughing and just being with each other. They knew they were avoiding the issues that they needed to iron out before going much further, but this was what they needed before delving into all that.

They fell asleep together in their clothes just as the sun came up over the small town that she knew she'd return to as soon as she could. She'd left it to get away from the fact that he didn't love her, but now that she knew he did, she couldn't picture herself anywhere else.

She needed him. She needed home. He was both.

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
